Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1887-09-08
SAVED BY A KISS.

aged 10 years, months, and days"
The words were engraved upon sill
yer plate, but there was no coffin un-
der them. Mrs. Purroy, an elderly
lady, visiting friends living on Clinton
av, Alameda, but whose home is in
Brooklyn, N. Y, looked with an air of
mingled pride and reverence upon the
carving, for her name was once Elma
Griffin, and the coffin that was made
to hold her remains.
"On my nineteenth birthday" she
said, "my mother invited party of ac-
quaintances to our house to celebrate
the day. We lived some distance out
side of Williamsburgh, as it was then,
and the ground was u little soft and
boggy. One ofmy friends remembered
this as she was about to start for her
home with her brother, and she laugh
ingly congratulated me on being housed
already and having no occasion to
brave theswamp. Twas a wild young
girl in those days, and I declared at
once that l would 60 with them and
return alone. Everybody present tried
to dissuade me except the girls broth
er. We started, and when we reached
my friends's house I was conscious that
my feet were quite wet, and that disa-
greeable chill had crept over me, but I
declined an invitation to go in, and
brother, / mean-came with me, and
somehow forgot the cold and damp as
walked home.
II think we must have talked for a
long time as we stood on my uncle's
doorstep, for suddenly Rob-my escort,
I mean-said: 'EIma, your face is very
pale. Have I kept you standing here
too long? He talked to me for 10 min
utes after that, and then wished me
good night and left me. I rang the
bell, and when my mother opened the
door l told her what I might have
known an hour sooner, if had given
it a thought, that was really ill. She
hurried me to bed Immediately, and
when she came to call me the following
morning she looked very anxious By
noon was delirious, but l could hear
the doctor tell my mother had typhoid
fever, and that he could not hold out
much hope for my recovery. [ knew
that my mother was weeping, but I was
always selfish girl, and I could only
cry out; Robert! Bobert! Where is
Robert" and they told me, hardly
thinking that I heard them, that Rob-
ert had been suddenly called upon to
start for California early that morning,
and had not even heard of my illness.
He sent letter to me, however, but I
did not see it until many eeks later.
~ grew rapidly worse, and gradually
the knowledge of all outward things
passed from me. fancy that I had q
certain consciousness, but not of mat
ters around me. was in another state |
Of being, in which the person acting
md speaking-always strangely speak
ng-was myself, and yet not myself. |
Then came an utter blank, from which
awoke, after nearly three weeks of
to see my mother and the doc
or standing by my bedside. The doc
or said the crisis was past, and should
recover, but I did not feel any
interest in what he was talking about.
"The quiet days of convalescence fol-
owed, and the doctor, seeing that [
vas very weak, regarded me seriously,
md warned my mother that relapse
hould be carefully guarded against. I
lsed at that time, too, to fall into curl
'us physical conditions that suppose
we're frances, in which knew ali that
vas going on around me, but from
which did not seem to care to arouse
myself by moving or speaking. These
,eriods lasted longer and longer, but
hey were not observed, and as they
we're rather pleasant than otherwise I
aid nothing about them.
Zone morning I awoke from what
eemed to be a natural sleep, and Law
With my eyes closed listening to sounds
hat could not at first interpret; but
lowly the knowledge came to me that
ny mother was sobbing beside my bed.
tried to ask her why she was grieving,
ut [ could not move or speak. The
rance was upon me. I was sensitive,
owever, and knew that / was lying
pom hard substance asd not upon
he comfortable mattress of my bed ]
Ould feel, too, very little covering over
le, and despite my eyelids being down
he gloomy darkness of the room could
9 detected. Where in the world have
ney careied me top I thought. Il
Presently I heard my mothers
oice, and knew that she was speak,
lg to my cousin Mary, who was stay
lg in the house with us.
"'POor Elma, she said. Il was 80 sure
lat God would spare her to me. She
ruggled through that dreadful illness
nly to die quietly in her sleep at last.
is very hard, Mary. o ~
II have often wondered since that I .